


//offal

by MostlyAMan



Category: No More Heroes (Video Games)
Genre: Guro, M/M, Necrophilia, Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyAMan/pseuds/MostlyAMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NSFW, EXPLICIT: Guro, Necrophilia. Travis pays his last, fucked-up respects to a great warrior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	//offal

It was all fucked up. So, so, fucked up.  
  
The heat of laser made him sweat and leather stuck uncomfortably to his body, and when the  _fuckwits_  with cleaners tried to step closer, he roared and brandished his weapon at them, cursed their mothers and their stupid fat heads and their insistence to follow that  _bitch_  and how he'd kill them, in gruelling, shouted detail until they backed  _the fuck down_  and she just  _smirked_  with those perfect round lips and tits, bothering to humour him.  
  
 _He had ten minutes_.  
  
She could...  
  
  
The silence finally hit him as he disengaged the katana.  
  
  
Oh, god, there were holes, so many holes, forming together to make bigger ones so that sickening crimson going glossy in the sunset could pool more freely around the body of... The greatest warrior he'd ever known.  _You're exaggerating_ , he knew it already,  _you don't have to tell me, he just_ \-- deserved better?  
  
Yeah.  
  
Yeah, maybe he did.  
  
 _No, fuck you, he definitely did._  
  
He stared down, fixated, into bullet-riddled meat and listened, rapt, to the gurgle of a dead man unable to even gasp for breath or cry to the heavens, or demand for his head to be cut off as he gutted himself. That would have been cool. So  _fucking_  cool. He came to the fight as a man that didn't fear death in the slightest, who believed he could win, whose heart beat to taiko and exuded a blaze, the soul of the Dragon and the East. How fucking cool he was. He dropped to his knees and finally mustered the balls to reach out and touch him; carefully, like he could be broken or had to be preserved. Two fingers took a strong jawline and turned his head towards him. One round eye hung half-open still, and twitched, trying to focus. He could tell he was there. He was aware.  
  
That just broke his heart.  
  
Yet he didn't know what to say. He stared down dumbly at the dragonsoul, at the man that needed so much more than he could give him there and then. Would a quick death honour him or disappoint him? Would it be cowardly to slit his throat there and then, or was it the right thing to do? Or should he have left him?  
  
Rounded lips shook, as he tried to speak, but managed only a wet noise of a body caving in on itself.  
  
Travis' throat was dry and Ryuji looked so  _wet_ -  
  
  
It was only at that moment that the assassin, the Tiger, the West, noticed he had a boner pressed to the side in his tight, tight, designer jeans.  
  
  
  
Artificial holes were slick, tight, so tight that he could barely thrust into what had once been a chest cavity. His fucked-up abs felt even better, his innards still hot and throbbing and the curve of muscle still bold and gorgeous under his hands. He could feel veins when he was careful, dick buried in ruptured meat and mangled offal that bulged forth when he pulled out. The body was shaking,  _Ryuji_  was shaking, and Travis just jerked himself off, sticky with blood and fluid. Ryuji's dick twitched when he touched it and he didn't know if it was painful or good, but he did it anyway- the dying man gurgled through blood and splintered ribs, thighs tensing and slacking over and over as a rough-gloved thumb manipulated his pathetic hard-on.  
  
Travis was in too deep and he knew it, the sun setting blood red and orange over them warping colour and vision until he was leaning down, feeling uneven and ragged breath on his lips until they met, bloody and vile-  
  
the Dragon's tongue met his as he tasted his mouth and he  _moaned_ , painfully hard with adoration and tears beading in his eyes for some reason-  
  
and it was good when he came, watching the warrior struggle to catch white with his tongue before it slid into his throat and pooled with the blood. Head thrumming and foggy, Travis scooped it from the swordsman's tongue with his own and tasted it, spat it back down and marvelled as his saliva made it faster-  
  
but he wasn't breathing any more, so it didn't really matter.  
  
  
  
She smirked at him when he finally walked past, blood over his thighs, wiped off of hands on his shirt and smudged on his face.  
  
But it wasn't until later that it hurt, jerking off to the memory before he cleaned the blood away.  
  
...  _Shit_.


End file.
